Once Upon an Iron Throne
by devlinof9
Summary: What happens off the coast of Westeros, across the Shimmering Sea, in the White Kingdom of the Enchanted Isles will greatly affect who sits upon the Iron Throne. Mainly OUAT in FTL with SwanQueen, but a few characters from Game of Thrones will make an appearance as well. Rated M for violence and sexual situations. Chapter Three is up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Once Upon a Time or Game of Thrones. I own only my own characters of which there are many. Please do not use any of them without permission.

Warning: This story will have elements of violence and sexual situations.

A/N: I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while... I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know your thoughts.

Chapter 1

The conqueror king, Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, had died. It happened without much fanfare across the Shimmering Seas south of Westeros, a little black crow bringing the news on its leg. The first-born son of the fallen King, Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name, ascended with much the same notice, a squawking crow delivering the news to the King and Queen of the White Kingdom, Rulers of the Enchanted Isles. Neither message meant much to the people so far away across the Shimmering Sea and life continued as usual.

Three years passed with little change in the lives of the people of the Enchanted Isles. Their King and Queen were kind, and the Kingdom was flourishing under their direction. Much struggle had brought them to the easy peace that surrounded the land. Wars bitterly fought with their neighbouring Kingdom had lasted years, and with their ending, the people were finally returning to their lives.

King James was a kind man, given to mucking in the dirt with his soldiers as much as presiding over court matters. His wife, Queen Snow, First of Her Name and only child of the former King, ignored her advisors that her husband's actions did not fit a Royal. Theirs was a match of the truest love, not an arrangement sought to unite powerful families. The people were prosperous and happy, so in the Queen's mind, her advisors could only bicker like old hens, not affect any change in the King's behavior.

So it had been in the Enchanted Isles, until the day that a ship came to their shores, bearing a flag emblazoned with a great stag on a field of red. It sat too high to be a trader vessel, and its crew too clean for regular sea fairing men. It anchored and the mouth of the bay that was the center point of trade for all the Isles, blocking the way for most ships.

At first there was annoyance, then anger that a ship bearing the standard of the house Baratheon would dare to interrupt trade in a land not its own. As it sat through the day and into night with no sign of further approach, such feelings ebbed, only to be replaced by a growing fear of the unknown. A feeling that was shared by most of the nobles at court.

King James held up a hand, signalling for quiet as he and the Queen rose from their thrones. A hush fell over most of the crowd, though two nobles continued to murmur quietly of the silent ship and its intentions. "My Lords and Ladies be calm," Queen Snow began, her bearing regal and relaxed, "There is no call to be alarmed at this moment."

"With respect, Your Magesty," one of the elder lords spoke up, after shooting a stern look at the two still more interested in their own assumptions than fact, "I worry of the chance that the War of the Five Kings will reach our shores."

Queen Snow sighed quietly, observing the tenseness in the crowd. The Lord who had spoken, Damien of Yorestone, was primarily a successful business man and as such, not prone over reaction. The Yorestone family was one of the oldest in the Enchanted Isles, and their support of the White family had never wavered. "I share your concern, Lord Yorestone," the Queen said, "But one ship does not an invasion make."

"My Queen speaks true, noble Lords," James followed, "We have no reason to believe they mean us ill. Our trade with Westeros, indeed with the blessing of King Robert Baratheon, all the Gods keep him, has never faltered, and we should not assume the worst of the new King."

"Perhaps they await a crow?" one young Lord spoke up, causing several murmurs to rise.

"Indeed," said another, his tone relieved as though looking for hope, "Perhaps they await word from Westeros."

"It may be such," Snow said over the din, quieting it with her voice, "It may even be that they await the dawn to present before the court. We simply do not know."

"We have no reason to believe otherwise," James added, smiling at his wife, "But for the nonce, I say to you go home. The hour is late and I have no wish to be standing here tempting the fates with doom-saying when I could be abed. If no solution presents on the morrow, we will speak of this again."

Queen Snow waved to the guards at the doors, signalling them to open and escort the Lords and Ladies away. It had been a long day, as it always was running a kingdom, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up with her husband after checking on her children.

"Thank the Gods that is ended," James muttered as they left through their own separate door, "I have no desire to soothe the nobles with their quaking buttocks."

"James!" Snow admonished, but not without a smile. Most of the Nobles had never faced a missed meal, let alone a war zone before, and they tended towards imagining the worst of things. "We should send a crow to Emma," she continued, as always, missing her first daughter, "To let her know of things."

"I agree," James nodded, motioning a small page who was walking towards them, "Best to be prepared." Then to the page, "Have the Maister send a crow to Princess Emma. No doubt she is still wandering the ruins of the Blackheart's castle. I want her to return in all haste with her men."

"Yes, Magesty!" the page said smartly, snapping to and rushing off as quickly as his legs could carry him.

"Which one was that again?" James asked his wife, marvelling once again at how his wife seemed to know every child in the castle.

"Peter," Snow chuckled, "The same that tripped carrying your bow last harvest." The moment she referred to was nearly legend among the servants of the castle.

The young scruffy boy was of an age where all his limbs grew faster than he could keep up with them, and when sent to fetch the King's long bow for a hunt, he had made it nearly back when his feet tripped him up. Ass over crown the boy had tumbled, down a slight dip directly into a mud puddle. Miraculously, he had managed to keep the long bow from breaking, or even getting covered in mud. So there he had lain, covered in mud, holding up the bow proudly as James walked over and plucked it out of his hand before helping him up and ruffling his very muddy hair.

"Ah yes," James chuckled, wrapping an arm around Snow's waist, "Grown into his legs a bit it would seem."

"Yes it would," Snow agreed, leaning against her husband as they made their way to their suites.

Shadows crawled across the ruins of the Black Castle, making the stones seem to writhe in misery as they lay crumbling all around. Nearly destroyed from the last terrible war to ravage the Enchanted Isles, its downfall had brought an end to the 12 year war against its owner. Queen Cora, evil witch, the Blackheart to all who knew her, had finally fallen, an arrow through her throat, shot by Queen Snow herself.

Emma the Swan, House of White, and heir to the throne of the Enchanted Isles lay comfortably on her furs, warmed by the fire nearby, and stared at the ghostly ruin, still fascinated, even 6 years on, with the tale of the Blackheart's defeat.

A hard woman, born to poverty but married into royalty, she found skill in the use of magic and used it to control her husband, the King. It was rumor for many years that even the child she had born, was created by magic, as the Queen wouldn't allow the King to touch her in private. Regina, she had named the child, a pretty little thing, so bright and well mannered. Of course, the whispers across the land said that the Black Queen used magic on the child, harming her as though there was no mother's love in her heart. No proof of such was ever discovered, nor would it be, because in her 13th year, the Princess had fallen ill with a coughing sickness that she never recovered from. Queen Cora announced it to the land that her only child had died. There was no funeral, and no mentioned of her was ever allowed in the Black Queen's presence again.

Emma sighed, remembering the sad tale. It always brought her to the ruins, whenever she could get away from palace life. Always thrilled by the adventure of leaving the White Kingdom, the young princess often found it difficult to sleep. In those moments, she would think of the little princess, wondering what she would have become if not for the Blackheart. Most of the time, Emma believed that she would have overthrown her cruel mother and restored peace to the land.

A quiet squawk drew her attention and she looked up to the trees to see a crow perched and looking solemnly in her direction. So much of her time was filled with court, and training in Knight's pursuits, of which she studied with equal vigor, that it was hard to convince her mother to let her leave. On these few trips though, she basked in the freedom it brought; hunting meals with her fellow knights, washing in streams, and even the heavy handed convincing of a few bandits to choose another line of work. She had only been gone two days this time, and her mother had found a reason to call her back again.

Emma was half way to convincing herself to ignore the bird, or roast it over the fire for morning meal when a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. "A crow," one of the young soldiers said, rousing others, "It must be from the castle."

"Very good, Fennis," Emma groused, sitting up and glaring good naturedly, "Since your eyes are so good, why don't you go fetch its message."

"Yes, Highness," he said, eyeing the tree that he would have to climb. The look on his face spoke that he would not be so quick to comment again.

A quick trip up, with many a colourful curse word muttered loud enough to make those gathered around chuckle, and Fennis retrieved the crow's message. Emma watched him carefully, running long fingers through her long blonde hair to tame it for a leather tie. She had argued with her mother that she wanted it cut, as it posed a problem with her armor, but the Queen vehemently refused. It was the subject of more than one argument over the years, and only the braided leather ties that were a gift from her father had kept her from taking a sword to the length.

"What news?" Emma asked, after Fennis had handed the message scroll to his Knight Commander.

"A Baratheon ship blocks the bay," Quinop, the Knight in charge of the men responded, reading the note again. He was a big man, half a hand taller than most, filling his knight's armor well. A shock of red hair crowned his head and covered his face as he frowned at the paper he clutched. A noble himself, second son of Lord Jarro, House of Darrussi, his was a strong family, where only the best warriors were honored. His father, Lord Balthus was a legend among the kingdom, having helped the King and Queen to defeat the Blackheart despite his advanced age. Quintop's elder brother, Lyonadi would be future Lord of the house, so Quintop had been allowed to become a Knight Commander.

"Baratheon," Emma muttered, shaking her head. She held little interest for the Kings of other lands, though rumor reached even the Enchanted Isles of how brutal a man now lead the people. "What could the petulant young King want?"

"The King and Queen want you home to find out, Highness," Quintop replied. He had always called her Highness, more as a term of endearment than a title. Emma and the young Darrussi Lord had grown up together, often running off from court and climbing the trees around the kingdom, much to the worry of her parents. As they grew, the two remained inseparable, through festivals, official gatherings, and sword lessons equally. Their parents had spoken more than once, as they both knew, of possible marriage, but no official deal had been made.

"Of course they do," she sighed, gathering her armor from the neat pile she had stacked it in before laying down for the night. "Gather the men, Quin," Emma continued, "We travel at dawn."


	2. Chapter 2

a/n...another chapter is up!

Chapter 2

Daenerys Targaryen, The Storm Born, Mother of Dragons, looked over the crowd of slaves she had just freed from the city of Yunkai, her heart swelling at the outpouring of love they showed her. Myhsa, they called her. Mother. Her three young dragons circled above, happy to frolic with each other while she was busy. Surveying the faces, she motioned her advisor, Ser Jorah forward. He may be disgraced in Westeros, but his honor in serving her was much like a father's worry for his child, and it made her love him.

"Take two squads of Unsullied search the palace for riches, and the market for food," she ordered, wanting to boost their stocks in case some wished to leave.

"Yes, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah replied with a bow, then corrected, "My Queen." As he moved off, Dany watched him go, amused at his title slip. She had not been Khaleesi for long before her beloved husband Khal Drogo had died, but it was still the first royal title she had been given. Ser Jorah was always respectful, however, and she sometimes missed the simplicity of the Khallisar now that she was faced with commanding an army 8,000 strong.

"My Queen," a voice called her attention, and she turned to see the young face of her Unsullied Commander, Grey Worm.

"Yes?" A quick glance to her dragons to make sure they were still happily playing, while Grey Worm bowed his head respectfully.

"The men have found something among the people," he informed her, stepping aside to reveal two soldiers holding a woman in torn and dirty rags tightly between them. Golden shackles, encrusted with jewels, circled both wrists and her throat, doing nothing to hide the redness and bruising that accompanied them. To Dany, the dark haired woman looked like a cross between royalty and slavery, and wondered again at the strangeness of Yunkai.

The men tugged her forward, causing the woman to curl in on herself slightly, a look of abject terror on her face. Dany immediately felt a tug of sorrow at her expression and lifted a hand to stop the Unsullied warriors movement. She bears the look of slavery, the Mother of Dragons realized, seeing eyes downcast.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked of Grey Worm, not taking her eyes off the frightened woman.

"She was found in the crowd," he explained quickly, "Trying to hide her jewels under rags."

"She hides herself, Grey Worm," Dany corrected, tipping her head slightly to the side to examine her marks without approaching, "Release her."

The men holding the frightened woman immediately let go, taking one step to the side as commanded by their Queen. Neither showed any surprise they may have felt when the young woman fell to her knees as soon as freed, her head bowing to the sand in prostration.

Dany's gaze fell upon the young woman's back, half covered by her clothes, revealing thin red lines horribly marring her delicate olive skin. She said nothing, allowing the young woman a long moment before crouching down before her, a gentle hand resting on her shoulder. The flinch of muscles fed an anger that Dany had been fostering in her heart at the slavers of Yunkai since first arriving, but she schooled her face to show nothing as she spoke in soft tones.

"Do not cower before me," the Dragon Queen said softly, stroking the bare skin under her fingers, "I will bring no harm to you. My wrath is only for those who have enslaved the people." The muscles under her hand slowly ceased quaking, but the woman did not rise from her position.

Missandei, translator and maid servant to the Queen, watched all this with concerned eyes as she clutched Dany's shawl to her chest. She had been a slave for many years herself, to the Master Trainer of the Unsullied, and she recognised the fear in the woman all too well. "My Queen," she said softly, approaching unbidden to Dany's side and resting a hand on her arm, "I will ask the people who she is if you permit."

Dany nodded briefly, a look of gratitude on her face. "Thank you, Missandei," she said, taking her shawl back from the woman and gently draping it around the prostrated woman. When the translator had left with a small but respectful bow, Dany turned her attention back to her newest charge. She had not broken contact with the young woman, and began gently running her hand through midnight black hair in a soothing motion.

Sir Barristan Selmy, former Kingsguard commander to Robert Baratheon stood quietly watching the tenderness bestowed by his queen onto the unknown woman. One hand gripped his sword pommel as always, seeing threat in every motion as he guarded the Queen. Even so, he could tell the young woman held the cowering position of a slave, and felt for her. He had never supported slavery, even for the lowest of criminals, and wondered what, if anything, this woman had experienced in her young life.

"Your Grace," he interrupted softly, frowning as his voice caused a flinch in the other woman, "The sun is unforgiving. You should take her to cover." He glanced up at the sky, seeing not a cloud, and wiped his sweating brow for emphasis.

Daenerys nodded silently, having given little thought to the sun beating down on them all. Her fair skin had grown accustomed to the weather in her time with the Khallisar of her husband, but she did not thrive in the heat as most of her people did. "You must stand," she said softly to the woman still face down in the sand, guiding with a gentle touch as the woman followed her command. Her eyes stayed focussed on the ground at Dany's feet, and her trembling had resumed.

"Please do not fear me," the Mother of Dragons said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "The sun will bake us if we remain here. Come to cover, and we will see you cleaned and fed." The woman didn't raise her eyes, but allowed herself to be lead through the ranks of soldiers to the Queen's tents.

It was there, moments after arriving, that Messandei found them, out of breath from running and guided in by Daario Naharis, recent addition to the Queen's armies, and head of the Second Sons mercenaries. "My Queen," Messandei bowed, keeping her voice low as to not startle the young woman still supported in Dany's gentle grip.

"What news?" she asked, keeping the young woman from dropping to her knees again.

"The people know her," the translator said, a look of pain crossing her face, "They say she is the Slave Queen, wife and property of the Malikai." The title carried terror with it, a barely audible whimper escaping the young woman's lips as her knees buckled. Dany dropped with her, both arms circling the woman as she shook. "They say she is called Regina, My Queen," Messandei continued, keeping her voice low as she kneeled on the other side of the shaking woman to gaze at the Mother of Dragons, "And that she is from a foreign land across the Shimmering Sea."

"Thank you, Messandei," the Queen said, seeing the pain in the former slave's eyes. She knew of the horrors the frightened woman, Regina, must have seen, and Dany rested a hand on her servant's arm, a gentle touch of gratitude that made the woman smile.

Daario stood still at the door, a scowl marring his handsome features as he watched the scene before him. He had seen first-hand the horrors visited upon the slaves in Yunkai, and made no secret that he despised their practises. "Dragon Queen," he said, as he had taken to calling the woman, "I will have water brought for bathing." When the Queen nodded silently, he slipped out unnoticed by the others.

"Leave us," Dany commanded, watching the Unsullied guards depart just as quietly, leaving the three women alone on the floor of the tent. Ser Barristan left as well, but stopped just outside the opening of the tent, faced half away so that he may keep his Queen safe under watchful eyes as she tended to her most recent stray.

SQSQSQSQ

Ser Jorah walked carefully around the bodies of nobles left in the streets to rot when the slave army had rebelled. He had seen first-hand how much chaos was responsible for the carnage he now avoided, and he had no wish to see it again. He would, however, following Queen Daenerys the StormBorn. The sickly sweet stench of bodies beginning to rot in the midday sun was cloying, sticking to his clothing in a way no other smell could. The disgraced knight from Westeros ignored the flies as best he could, stepping over the worst of the messes that he could, sending two or three of the Unsullied into each well adorned house left standing.

Many houses were nothing more than burned out shells, for once the battle began, there was no way to stop oil laps from being broken. More than one fire had burned through the fighting, and Ser Jorah could hear the screams of those trapped inside still. Perhaps he always would in some way, but in the aftermath of the destruction, they were more distracting.

"There's the palace," Grey Worm stated, pointing his spear down one alley.

"Good," the Knight remarked, side-stepping another body, this one of a young lady, pierced through the chest with an Unsullied spear, "Lets complete our tasks and return to camp. I have no desire to remain among the dead."

The two men approached the opulent building, a full storey taller than any other and pushed open the enormous double doors. A few of their group had finished searching their assignments and joined the two leaders, carrying packs full of valuables upon their backs. They made not a sound as they moved, no matter the contents of their packs, and Ser Jorah wondered again at how skilled the men were.

Drawing his sword, the Knight crept into the darkness slowly, careful of his movements. The battle for the city had been fierce, and he was unsure of how thoroughly the palace had been searched. Anyone could remain within, waiting for a chance to strike.

The Unsullied, with a single look from Grey Worm crouched to battle stance, moving out slowly from the doors, once inside. As a group, they moved through the throne room, seeing one elegantly carved stone throne, and a delicate rug resting beside. Chains bolted to the side of the throne made Ser Jorah swallow in guilt, reminded once again that his own slaver past had caused more pain than he realized. Beside the throne, tossed carelessly to the floor was a bloodied whip, worn in places from long use. Ser Jorah kicked it away from him with a snort of disgust. He fervently wished that the Malikai had still been alive so that he could beat the man until his own guilt was eased.

Room by room they searched, collecting trinkets light enough to carry, and as much food as they had room for from the kitchens. When Ser Jorah was satisfied that there was enough, he gave the quiet order to abandon the city and return to camp. "Let's leave this place to the dead," he commented, sheathing his sword a final time. Grey Worm led the path back to the main gate, their own encampment waiting beyond.

TBC... please review, I write faster with encouragement!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Another update! man am I ever writing a lot this weekend! :)

Chapter 3

The sun peered out from between the clouds, shining brightly down on the armored riders racing along the only road that lead to the White Kingdom. After several hours on horseback, Emma and the rest of her party had broken through the woods and were moments from home. Short words had passed between Emma and her fellow Knights since their journey began, and the farther they travelled, the more unease filled them. It had been half a lifetime since anything other than a trading vessel had visited their shores from Westeros, and then it had been young members of noble families sent away from the madness of war.

Emma's hair whipped behind her as she rode, cresting a hill and pulling her mount to a stop. She praised the chestnut gelding she had named Salkie with a heavy pat of his lathered neck, crouching low in her saddle as she gazed upon her home. The Castle walls were still intact, and her practiced eye could tell of no strife among the people, though they gathered towards the main square more than usual. A quick glance to the bay, also looked calm, but for the dark ship moored across its entrance.

"No sign of trouble," Quinop noted, a throwing axe already present in his hand. His saddle straps were full of them. His aim was deadly at fifty paces, though he could still wound at a hundred, and he made sure to practice in the training grounds every chance he got so all knew it.

"Seems calm enough," Emma agreed, kneeing her mount into a gentle canter, "I've a mind to take the cannons to that damned ship tho."

"Aye," Fennis spoke up, coming up along-side the pair, "Damned Westie scum." Most of the time, the young soldier was of good manners, but he had been born beside the Narrow Sea, a child of slaves sold to rich merchants by the nobles of Westeros. There was no love lost there.

"Stay by the gate," Emma ordered, "I'll see my parents and find you after." Though Quinop was the Knight Commander, she was the Princess and occasionally took charge. She did it so rarely in fact, that the big man had no trouble following her orders.

The riders parted at the gate, Emma continuing on alone while the rest kept back from the gate so as not to be cornered if it came down in a trap. The Princess of the Kingdom drew much notice, even in her armor, and nodded politely to those who called her name and bowed. She loved to be among the people, even now as her ever watchful eyes looked for anything out of place.

"Princess!" came a startling call and Emma's head spun to take in the young woman who had been a friend all her life.

"Ruby," Emma smiled, always delighted to see her childhood friend, "Why are you back? I thought you were hunting with boys for another week." The boys she spoke of were a rag-tag group of fellows that had lived in the woods until Queen Snow had stumbled across their path, running from the Blackheart. They were all brothers, so they swore, though no two looked alike enough for it to be true. What mattered was that they had saved the Queen many years ago by hiding her from the Blackheart, and had been faithful servants of the Kingdom ever since.

"Granny sent a rider to fetch us," Ruby replied, approaching the horse her friend rode and putting a gentle hand on his neck, "There's trouble brewing so the old bat claims."

"No doubt she's been sampling the honey mead she makes again," Emma chuckled with a shake of her head. Ruby's granny was a fine cook, and rather skilled at making strong drink, but a soothsayer she was not.

"She's always sampling the mead," Ruby laughed along with her Princess and friend, "But Her Majesty called the boys into the castle near the minute we returned." Her face spoke unease and Emma stiffened in the saddle.

"Make your-self ready, then," Emma stated, becoming the professional fighter she had trained to become. A kick to her mount and she was off, galloping across the square to the great doors of the castle she called home. She knew Ruby would follow as quickly as possible, her special skills always of great use in a fight.

Out of the saddle before her horse even stopped, Emma wasted no time on the men at the doors who bowed out of respect, sampling rushing past them at a jog towards the main throne room where she knew her parents would be holding court. Another pair of guards stood watch at those doors, though these men opened the doors for her before they bowed, and tiny little man with a giant voice loudly proclaimed her arrival.

"Hail and honor to her Royal Highness, Princess Emma the Swan, heir to the throne of the White Kingdom!" he bellowed respectfully, bowing as she strode past. The nobles followed suit, bowing as low as they were able, some despite their overly round bellies. She paid no attention, however, her gaze set upon her parents as they rose from their matching thrones, ignoring whatever the large man in black before them had to say.

As was the proper custom, Emma stepped past the big man, who she now knew also smelled foul, and dropped to one knee at the base of the steps to her parents' thrones. Without her crown, by law, she was simply a knight, and showed the proper respect for her King and Queen.

"Rise, daughter," James said proudly, a fatherly smile upon his face, "Welcome home."

"Thank you, father," Emma smiled back, rising to full height and sharing the smile with her mother, "You summoned me?" This to the Queen, who's smile suddenly fell.

"This is Ser Golrick, Emma," the Queen gestured with regal grace, though Emma could see she was less than pleased with the man already, "He comes to us from King's Landing in Westeros, at the behest of King Joffrey."

"Well met, Ser Knight," the Princess nodded politely, "What does His Majesty need that he would send you so far?"

"Princess," the giant man, bowed his head respectfully. He was massive, beyond even Quinop's size, and Emma struggled not to show her surprise. Dressed in black from head to toe, he seemed to show a darkness about him that set her at instinctive unease. "I come bearing word of King Joffrey, First of His Name, Ruler of the Andals and the one true King," he continued, raising his hand to offer her the scroll of parchment he had been trying to give to the Queen, "His Grace wishes continued good fortune between the two lands."

Emma snapped the wax seal on the parchment bearing the stag insignia, and unfurled the scroll, reading carefully before snorting in amusement. "King Joffrey wants us to show solidarity with Westeros and support of his crown, by sending 6,000 of our soldiers to help in the War of the Five Kings."

"This is the gesture you mentioned earlier Ser Golrick," James snapped, descending the steps and taking the offered parchment from his daughter's hand to read for him-self, "Six full companies of soldiers is the King's idea of a gesture?"

"His Grace feels it would be a fitting gesture," Ser Golrick responded, standing tall before the White King.

"Our trade agreements and peace treaties of the last hundred years are not enough?" Queen Snow asked, frowning at the foreign knight's arrogance.

"I am not privy to decisions of His Grace, your Majesties," the big man responded, "I was ordered to deliver the contract for signing, and I have."

"But that wasn't all, was it?" Emma asked, growing tired of the agitated whispers going on among the nobles behind her, "Else why send a knight to do a courier's task?"

"My only order was to deliver the contract and then accompany the soldiers back, Your Highness," Ser Golrick supplied, pinning the little Princess with his gaze. The way he said her title made it sound demeaning.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the big man, sure in her heart that he was lying about something. "And just how does the King expect our troops to make it to King's Landing without ships?" she asked, guessing at the answer. A rolling in her belly told the Princess things were going to get very bad, very soon.

"His Grace has already sent the transport ships," Ser Golrick replied, beginning to look a little less sure of his position. He had obviously not expected such a response to his King's missive. "They will be arriving within days."

"I see," the Queen said, a frown beginning to form, "His Majesty seems sure of our answer, to send a contract and ships as well." She looked to her husband, worry in her eyes.

Sir Golrick tensed by Emma's side, and she could feel the mood of the room darken further. The man's sword arm clenched, though it stayed away from his weapon. He obviously wants to draw, she thought, wondering briefly if he dared. Ser Golrick was obviously not a man accustomed to anyone questioning his King.

"Good Ser," James spoke after a long look at the Queen, "You understand we must speak to our council of this before any agreement is struck."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the knight replied smoothly, a serpent's smile forming, "I am at your disposal." Somehow, Emma doubted that entirely.

"You may return to your ship," James said politely, "We will send message of our decision by morning." Ser Golrick bowed politely and took his leave, ignoring the dark looks the nobles of the White Kingdom were throwing his way.

Once the doors banged shut, the volume of the nobles rose, becoming a wave of argument and outrage. The Queen held up her hand for quiet, but it seemed most didn't see, so busy arguing amongst themselves. "Be silent!" James bellowed, shocking the crowd and Emma. She so rarely heard him raise his voice that his shout rooted her to the spot.

A hush immediately fell over the crowd, though most seemed unable to stop shifting from foot to foot or wringing their hands in nervousness. "The council will convene to discuss these events at once," James informed them, signalling that court was over for the day. Many looked as though they wanted to argue the point, having not been given a chance to have their say, but all filed out as commanded. Several guards followed, heading to fetch the council members as was their duty, leaving the royal family alone in the big room.

"Of all the Gods' blessed fools to send," Emma huffed, losing her regal posture once the onlookers had departed and throwing her hands into the air in frustration, "Little Joffrey sends his prized warrior to intimidate us into complying."

"Emma," Queen Snow sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had tried to teach her daughter manners befitting a Princess, but when the armor was donned, it seemed to hide them completely.

"She's right," James soothed, a hand coming to rest on his wife's shoulder in sympathy, "No courier could expect to have such a document signed, so the King sends his bear instead. Pompous little shit."

"James!" Snow was nearly beside herself with the cursing. She never wondered where her daughter learned all her cursing from. Emma simply smirked at her father being chastised too. "Please save that talk for the council," she said, knowing how riotous her husband could get when surrounded by boys she had risen to advisors.

"Indeed," James agreed, wrapping an arm around his wife. Then he looked toward is daughter. "You and Quinop will come as well," he commanded her, "Be quick." He couldn't hold back a smile as his daughter bowed her head and left the way she had come, in search of her best friend.

Snow sighed, watching her daughter depart. "Those two would make a lovely couple," she stated with a sad smile.

"Yes, but we hesitate with Lord Darrussi to let her find love as we did," James reminded her, placing a soft kiss upon her head, "Let us hope it happens soon." With that, the King guided his wife through their own entrance and toward the council chambers.

TBC... Please review. Let me know how I'm doing. :)


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